


Kill the Dream

by sincerites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bad Parent John Winchester, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Case Fic, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Dean Winchester Calls Castiel "Angel", Dean Winchester Has Daddy Issues, Domestic Fluff, Dreams, Dreamsharing, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Masturbation, Moral Dilemmas, Praise Kink, References to Germanic Mythology, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Shotgunning, Slow Burn, Stoner Dean Winchester, Therapy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28899162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincerites/pseuds/sincerites
Summary: Something is killing people at a couple's resort in Great Barrington. Solving this means infiltration. Infiltration means Dean is stuck pretending to be married to Castiel- the angel that Heaven sent to prevent the apocalypse. They've only known each other for a year or so, but there's a level of familiarity there- something Dean hasn't felt often.But this isn't a regular case, something is getting in their heads, haunting their dreams. Something they've never seen before. Sam insists that this case will pull their heads out of their asses. Dean just has a bad feeling about it._alternatively, the fake married/dreamsharing fic that i cooked up with some friends.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	1. excursions are few and far between

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cowboylakay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboylakay/gifts), [asailedsteamboat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asailedsteamboat/gifts).



> hey yall <3
> 
> okay so this is another wonky timeline
> 
> ktd timeline:  
> dean is informed of his status as michael's vessel, castiel joins him on the road as a bodyguard of sorts - 2004 ish (they become friends during this period)
> 
> sam joins dean to look for john, castiel leaves in fear of intruding - late 2005
> 
> castiel comes back and joins the brothers after the events of faith - 2006
> 
> the events of ktd - late 2006
> 
> also dean doesnt care that hes bi, i dont feel like writing homophobic stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That does seem rather logical.”
> 
> Dean looked in the rearview mirror, locking eyes with Castiel. “Cas, don’t encourage this. What if this resort, uh, doesn’t like the taste of the rainbow?” He didn’t want to get run out of town before they could save these people’s lives. Although, he wouldn’t especially care at that point.
> 
> Sam pointed to the fineprint describing the resort- ignoring the confused ‘why does the rainbow matter’ from Cas, “Look, it says discrete and it’s Massachusetts. They’re, like, third in gay friendly states.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay yeah this is kinda short but the second chapter is almost done and longer so like just bear with this at the moment

“Boys.” Bobby turned to the trio on the couch. Castiel had dropped in weeks after revealing to them that he was sent from Heaven as a ‘bodyguard’, said something about helping them with hunts. Something something helping out, protecting the Michael Sword, preventing the apocalypse, blah blah blah. Dean was still processing the whole ‘Angels are real thing’, especially after Sam had just joined him on the road. Castiel was way better than that dickhead angel in the suit. Seemed like Heaven liked Earth enough to beat back doomsday with a broom. Dean didn’t like to think about if they hadn’t liked Earth.

Bobby tossed a newspaper onto Dean’s lap, ignoring the fact that Dean was holding piping hot coffee. Castiel picked it up and Dean ignored the tingling feeling at the brief contact. “I’ve got a case for you out east in Great Barrington. Six people dead at a couples’ resort in the last three months. Suffocation.”

Sam looked up from his laptop clenching his jaw in thought, “All couples?”

“All couples.”

Castiel finally finished reading the article, “They specialize in… _couples’ therapy_.”

“It’s for failing relationships, Cas.” Dean explained, “So… what? Some marriage counselor get tired of playing 'Love Doctor' for people with a fifty percent divorce rate?” Dean huffed, sipping his coffee. The tip of tongue stung, the bitter brew still scalding. Fuck, still too hot. 

Sam nodded, sending a get-a-load-of-this-guy look Bobby’s way. “Sure, yeah.” He grabbed his coat- that dirty Carhartt brown jacket- and flicked Dean the keys. His coffee sloshed again, burning him through his pants, and Sam smiled. “Let’s hit the road.” Castiel nodded and was out the room before Dean could even set down his mug.

Bobby held up a hand, stopping the trio from exiting the room. The three of them glanced at each other. Cas hadn’t even known Bobby for very long, but he still respected the wise air of the other man. Bobby screwed his face up, scratching at the scruff on his cheek. “This case is fishy, kids. Be careful, call me if you need anything and I will be there.” He sighed, deep and heavy. "I've lost two hunters in that area already. I'm only trusting you because there's three of you, don't let me down and make me drag you idjits out."

Dean looked at Sam, he wore a similar questioning expression- what could be so dangerous in forested Massachusetts? They nodded in tandem, surprised at the sudden shift in tone. "Yessir."

He noticed Castiel floundered a bit, looking between the brothers and Bobby, not knowing what to say. He finally settled, "I will ensure their safety Bobby, it is my duty after all." Bobby rolled his eyes are the angel's formal tone, side eyeing him and the brothers.

"Get outta here before I give the hunt to someone else." Bobby huffed, sitting in a chair. He waved a hand towards the door. "Go on."

Sam and Dean shared an exasperated look over Castiel's head. Trust the old man to start a slightly vulnerable moment and dispel it just as quick. It's not like Dean was entirely comfortable either, he didn't do chick flick moments. He preferred to keep his feelings out of the way where they wouldn't fuck up a job or get him too attached. In the corner of his eye, he saw the angel walk past him towards the door. He never wanted to get this attached.

-

They were in the car- Zeppelin playing softly and Castiel in the backseat- when Sam unfurled the newspaper some more. “Okay, get this, all of the victims supposedly had secrets-” Dean quirked an eyebrow at that information. How’d this random newspaper know? Wasn’t that classified or something between the therapist and patient? “- well, according to the other guests. Some long term ones, short term ones, none of them there for all of the murders. _But_ , the victims all had secrets that they mentioned off-handedly in group therapy or just hanging out. _And_ , they all reported having crazy, hyper-realistic dreams.”

“Like hallucinations?”

“No, like straight up dreams, but the kinds that stay with you for a while. See, people usually don’t remember their dreams because they wake slowly and it kinda gets lost to the wind. But _these_ people had dreams that they remembered for weeks after, and it happened every night.” He picked up the paper, eyes scanning for a specific quote. “Listen, quote: ‘‘Colby always talked about his dreams being super realistic,’ says Whitney- primary investor of the Halcyon Couples’ Resort- ‘He said they always told him to be free with himself, and then boom! He’s dead. I always thought he was just on drugs or something, maybe I should’ve reached out.’’ We’ll get the whole story if we’re _there_. I think we need to check into the resort.”

“Okay, Cupid, how do you suppose we do that? None of us are in a relationship and I sure as hell ain’t pretending with you.” Dean shuddered at the thought, maybe they could be temp workers or something.

Sam scrunched his face, “Ew dude, no, _gross_ . They only have one open position for a temp job and you and Castiel share that,” He screwed his face into a poor impression of Castiel’s serious expression, he continued with an overexaggerated gravelly voice, “ _profound bond_. You guys go, check in, pretend to be a couple for a couple of days. I take the temp job as extra hands around the hotel, we gank the bitch, and go back to Bobby’s. Piece of cake.”

Castiel was deep in thought, squinting at a spot on the paper. He tilted his head, “That does seem rather logical.”

Dean looked in the rearview mirror, locking eyes with Castiel. “Cas, don’t encourage this. What if this resort, uh, doesn’t like the taste of the rainbow?” He didn’t want to get run out of town before they could save these people’s lives. Although, he wouldn’t especially care at that point.

Sam pointed to the fineprint describing the resort- ignoring the confused ‘why does the rainbow matter’ from Cas, “Look, it says discrete _and_ it’s Massachusetts. They’re, like, third in gay friendly states.”

Sucking in a breath, Dean drummed his fingers on the wheel. This could be bad, _really_ bad. Not because he was repressed or anything- Dean knew he liked dudes, chicks were just safer to hook up with- but because pretending with Cas was way too close to the truth. But people were dying and he needed to keep the job front and center as first priority, personal feelings came second. “What do you think about this Cas?”

“I have no aversion to pretending to be your lover, Dean.” Dean clenched his jaw, ignoring the amused smirk Sam sent his way. “In fact, angels don’t subscribe to human societal constructs, we only present ourselves as what our vessels are. Even then, angels hold no judgement towards those of different orientations. I don’t have any sort of preference, I’ve come to appreciate all sorts of people.”

“Alright, well since Cas chucked the first brick at Stonewall, I’d say he’s fine with it.” Dean cranked the volume up, drowning out Sam’s ensuing laugh and his own swirling thoughts. All he needed to do was act natural, but not too natural so he didn't raise any suspicions. There was no reason for a guy with issues spanning his entire life- a guy destined to be a weapon of destruction- to fall in love with one of the purest beings in the world. A man so determined and _good_ that Dean had a hard time even understanding how they had gotten to be friends.

-

This was bullshit.

This was straight ass.

Okay, that was a lie. The place was nice enough, the resort looked like a luxurious lodge and had the heat to go with it. Dean had never been a fan of wintertime so he _was_ grateful. He had even made an internal list of pros and cons of this hunt. Pros: Nice beds, endless hot water, good food. Cons: Nosy people, therapy, pretending to be in love with your guardian angel while actually _being_ in love with your guardian angel. 

Sam had ditched the two of them already, going to the employees-only area for his interview, so Dean had no distraction from Castiel walking so close to him. Damn his inability to respect personal space. Dean started to zone out and listen to the white noise in the hotel, eyes unfocused on a golden lion ornament adorning a large Christmas tree. Cas leaned into his ear, a puff of breath teasing the tips of Dean’s ear. He just barely suppressed a full body shudder. “There are enochian wards carved into the windowsills, I believe I saw a devil’s trap under the entrance rug, too.”

He was going to ignore the way he felt about Castiel being so close to his ear like that. “They don’t want anyone crashing the party. What the hell is this, a farm?.”

“Precisely. Because of this, I’m afraid I’m not at my full power.”

“How much of your mojo have you lost?” This was proving to be one of the worst hunts he’s been on. God shits in his dinner once again. 

“I have enough power to heal minor injuries, but not enough to teleport out if needed. I’ve been somewhat reduced to a human with healing powers.”

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face. “Dammit, so we have an Einstein monster on our hands and you can’t get it up. Just great. I’ll text Sam.” He flipped out his phone, the signal was horrible, he needed to go find Sam. Dean turned to Castiel, “Stay here, I’ll be back. If something happens, just- something better not happen. Hold my duffel.”

The angel accepted the bag, nodding at the instructions. Dean caught sight of Sam from across the room- newly clad in a white polo and khakis- and jogged over. They nodded their greetings before Dean cut right to the chase, “Listen, there’s wards all over this place.”

“Yeah, I noticed a devil’s trap shaped chandelier earlier, which is pretty smart.”

“Yeah, genius. Anyway, not only does this monster hate demons but they hate angels too. Enochian is on every out-of-the-way wooden surface you can think of. Cas’ power is on three percent, man.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Dean glanced back to check on Cas, he was almost at the front desk. “Listen, I gotta catch you later.”

A teasing smile crept onto Sam’s face, he raised his voice into a higher pitch. “ _Ooooo_ , go get your lover boy, Dean!”

Dean had already started to walk away, jaw clenched and rolling his eyes. “I fucking hate you.” Sam just laughed. Man, fuck little siblings. Sam didn’t even truly grasp what the issue was here. He probably thought Dean felt off about pretending to be gay- he never _did_ come out- but it was just too much. Too close to the truth that he was hiding from Castiel, too close to the fact that Dean did hide being bi because he didn’t know what would happen. Dad was this pillar in his life- he always talked about being a man who can take care of others- and Dean didn’t know what he would do if Dad found out and cut him off. 

Dad would probably deny it to Hell and back but what was Dean supposed to think? Seventeen years old and Dad sends him on a gay nun salt and burn- right after Dean went on his first hunt with Lee. There was no way Dad could’ve known that they had fooled around in Lee’s broken down ‘98 Jeep Cherokee. High off of cosmic brownie edibles and cheap beer that tasted like dirt but did the job. Lee was the only one outside of Cassie and Castiel that Dean could see himself staying with for a long time.

He slid up next to Castiel right as the angel stepped up to the front desk. He stretched an arm around Castiel. Dean was unprepared for the way Cas looked at him, with those blue eyes full of compassion, and ignored the way butterflies fluttered in his stomach. Cas was a good actor, way too good of an actor, this hunt was going to be the death of him.

The front desk lady smiled at them- all customer service, nothing real- and held out her hand for a credit card. Dean passed the card over and she typed into her computer. “Do you have a reservation with us?”

Dean chuckled, faux bashful, “Nah, sorry, this was a spur of the moment thing. Had a couple of disagreements with the mister and thought a weekend getaway would do us some good.”

“We disagree on the fate of the world.” Dean took it back, Cas wasn’t anywhere close to a good actor. What the hell was he doing?

Front Desk Lady chuckled, “It sure does feel like that sometimes, huh? Well, Mr….” She glanced down at the card, “Beretta, you are in luck because we have a suite open for the weekend. It comes with amenities." The woman sing songed, trying to entice them. Internally, Dean grimaced. A suite? That was way more that they could afford right now. But then again, it wasn’t _his_ money and Sam had a couple of cards that weren’t maxed out yet. 

“Is that amenable… dear?”, Castiel questioned, tacking on the endearment at the end. And Dean couldn’t do anything but nod in agreement lest he say something sarcastic and ruin their entire cover. He handed Front Desk Lady the card and wrote down their cover names on the sign-in book. Really, Sam? For someone who didn’t want to be like Dad, Sam sure did use a lot of gun company names.

The Front Desk Lady tapped on her computer some more, “Alrighty! Here is the key and a bellhop will take your bags up momentarily. Enjoy your stay Mister and Mister Beretta.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter name: Excursions - A Tribe Called Quest


	2. this wreck ain't for the faint of heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There’s only one bed.”
> 
> “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”
> 
> “I hold no traditional military rank.”
> 
> “Oh my god.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told y'all it was longer!! anywho chapters will come a bit slower now. enjoy

“There’s only one bed.”

“Thank _you,_ Captain Obvious.”

“I hold no traditional military rank.”

“Oh my god.”

One bed. This big ass room that cost an arm and a leg, complete with an attached bathroom and lounge, had _one. bed._ To top it all off, vibrant, cherry colored rose petals were strewn on the floor, leading from the door to the plush, cream colored king size bed. The bed and bathroom were on a step across from the lounge area in the middle of the room. Log columns accented the walls and framed the balcony door that led to a firepit and two recliners. Soft looking loveseats sat across from each other with a glass and oak coffee table between them. The entire room had hardwood floors, but ivory rugs sat underneath the lounge and bed. It was admittedly beautiful.

The duo stepped up to the bed and took in the bathroom adjacent to the sleeping area. It was clean with sparkling marble countertops and stone grey flooring. The sinks were the fancy kind- the ones that had a bowl above the counter- and the walls were paneled with dark wood. Dean noticed a large bathtub- complete with jets and a soap holder- next to a large rain shower. It was a far cry from their usual dingy motels and moldy bathrooms, Dean couldn’t help but be excited about living in luxury. But the bed was an issue.

“Dude, I’m not sharing a bed with you.”

“That should be fine, I don’t require-” Castiel yawned, stunning the two of them into silence. He looked at Dean, shell shocked and confused.

It took Dean a moment, blinking away his confusion momentarily. “Did you just… _yawn_ ? Are you _tired_?”

“It must be the sigils, they must’ve turned me more human than I thought. I’d have to study them some more.” Castiel yawned again, mouth opening wide and body stretching all over. His usual wrinkled, white dress shirt lifted with the movement and showed Cas’ skin just above his waistband. And, huh, is that real wood on the roof? And also wow, has his duffel always been this stained?

He cleared his throat, dispelling the silence in the air. Clapping a hand on Cas’ shoulder, Dean sighed. “Alright angel, why don’t you take a nap and I scope this place out? Sound good?”

Castiel averted his eyes, opting to look at his scuffed dress shoes instead. “Before we continue with the farce, I think it would be beneficial to set boundaries. I, as I’ve said before, have no qualms about pretending to be your lover. However, you seemed to be uncomfortable.” He shifted his gaze to Dean- those blue, _blue_ , questioning and getting under Dean’s skin.

If Dean was truthful- which he never is- he’d indulge and say he’s cool with everything. But that would reveal too much and Dean needed to keep his head as clear. He could hear Dad in the back of his head, screaming at him to focus on the job. “First of all, we're literally supposed to be husbands. Secondly, I'm only doing the small stuff: handholding, sitting together, pet names, just couple stuff.” He poked Castiel in the stomach, trying to distract from the awkwardness that was creeping into his veins. “Try not to fall in love with me.”

Cas’ face twisted into confusion, head tilting. “We already share a profound bond.”

“Okay, angel, go lay down.”

“You keep calling me that. Is it an endearment?”

Heat creeped up Dean’s neck, traveling up to his ears and over the bridge of his nose, his freckles standing out against the red skin. He smiled, running his tongue over his teeth. How could Dean bullshit this away? “Uh, just getting in character. Y’know, the whole fake married thing.” Dean was a method actor, it didn’t matter that the nickname had been something Dean was itching to call Castiel. Cas stared at him, eyes searching for something and Dean turned away. “I’m going to go do some recon.” All but running to the door, Dean paused. He looked back at Cas, the man barely staying on his feet, and sighed. “And seriously, dude, take a nap.”

Dean stepped into the hallway, there weren’t any other doors on the floor- presumably because of it being for suites. The walls were all cream white with oak logs running parallel on the top and bottom. An ornate white and gold runner ran along the dark hardwood. It was a small hallway with one set of elevator doors directly in front of their door and a service elevator at the end of the hallway. He looked up; a camera sat in the corner of the hall, angled at the main elevator’s entrance. He looked to the side- the service one didn’t have a camera. Dean approached the service elevator; two carvings sat mounted on either side of the elevator doors.

They were made out of cedar, stained with a honey brown finish. They were two creatures- mouth drawn in a vicious snarl and eyes mocking, but all-knowing. Glittering rosaries were clutched in their jaws, almost like they were protecting them. Thin, wooden fur was texturized onto the creatures, it covered the whole body- all the way up to their bat-like ears. Its’ arms were curled inwards, tucked against its body, and Dean noticed that the creatures’ thumbs were held in their mouths. He stepped to the left, the eyes followed him. He stepped to the right, the eyes followed him. It was unsettling. These things were not normal carvings. They knew something. Dean didn’t know what.

He shook off the unease, opting to return to the public elevator and check in with Sam. They were dealing with something different. Something odd.

\- 

The pit in his stomach was still there when Dean finally found his little brother. Sam was setting a tray of mac n’ cheese under a heat lamp when he walked into the dining area. The wood theme carried on, floor and ceiling both paneled with oak and the tables made of sturdy pine on all except the side that led to a patio and lake. Dark greens and reds made up the large area rug in the middle of the dining room. About four large birch tables were spaced around the room- each with an ornate wooden carving. One table held an elephant, the other a fox, another had a swan, a bear, and an inhabited table had a cedar wolf as the centerpiece. A small group of six people- probably other patrons- were seated furthest away from the meal counter where Sam was stationed. They were engaged in conversation, completely illuminated by the warm fireplace next to them and the moonlight that streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the wall. 

He kept them in his peripheral as he knocked on the table twice as a greeting. “Heya Sammy, we have a bit of an issue.”

Sam’s brows furrowed and mouth parted slightly- all his tells of trying to figure something out- his voice was low when he responded, “How big of a problem?”

“Well, two things really.” He held up a ringed finger, “One, Cas is human, basically. Dude’s like an X-Men, has some powers but not _angel_ powers. The warding around this place is nuts.” Sam stared, disbelieving. “He got _tired_ , man. Yawning, stretching, droopy eyes, the whole nine yards.”

“Dude, for real?”

“Honest to God.”

Sam puffed his cheeks, “That throws a wrench into things.”

"Yeah, no shit." Dean huffed, holding . “Two, there are some freaky wood carvings at the service elevator on my floor. I think these things might have to deal with the deaths, they're _freaky_ dude."

Sam nodded, recognition flashing across his face. “Yeah… yeah I noticed them earlier. Every floor has them on every service elevator entrance. Check up on the lo-” And Sam couldn't get anything else before a redhead with a blinding white smile walked up behind him. She was wearing a beige pantsuit and white blouse with a nameplate that read Heather. Her hair was brown- long and braided down her back with a long strand tucked behind her ear. 

Heather shot Sam a scolding look, prompting him to duck his head and Dean to bite his cheek to keep from laughing, and plastered her smile back on. An unsettling customer service smile that hid everything about the person it was on. "Hello, sir. He wasn't giving you any trouble, was he? Samuel here is a new hire."

Dean covered a chuckle with a cough, shaking his head profusely. "Nah, _Samuel_ , is an absolute delight." 

“That’s great, I’m Dr. Heather Rutherford. I’m the owner of Halcyon.” Dean raised his eyebrows, sending a quick look Sam’s way, he let the brother know he had this under control. Sam bid his goodbyes and left to the back, no doubt to pretend to work and eavesdrop. 

Dean shook her hand, firm handshake, their rings sliding against each other as they pulled away. “How did you get into the business?”

She waved a hand, “I had a failed marriage because we weren’t truthful with each other. This lodge is to be a place for couples to restart that spark." She clenched her fists, a fervor igniting in her eyes. "This is a place for all your deceptions and lies and secrets to be aired out and like a phoenix, the relationship will come back bigger and brighter and _better_ than ever before.”

Dean eyed the woman, she was extremely passionate about the work being done here. Heather would know everything about this resort, all he had to do was ask. “I’m a bit of a mythology buff and I noticed some really intricate carvings on one of the elevators. What kind of creature is that?"

Heather shrugged, "It's a creature from Germany, don’t know too much about it. I just commissioned the woodworker to make an intricate frame." Dean nodded, someone had to know more about this.

"You don't happen to have pie, do you?" The woman grinned, gesturing for him to follow her over to a glass case.

“ _Do_ we?” The glass case was an absolute treasure trove in terms of pie flavors. Buttery, golden crusts framed various different fillings. Little paper cards were tented in front of groups of slices; apple and cranberry, key lime, pecan, cherry were only a few among the slices present. Dean could feel his heart giving out, he hadn't seen a selection like this in years. His mouth was watering at the sight; which should he choose? Cherry, a classic and solidly his favorite? Or key lime, just to spice it up a bit from his usual slices. “Oh and they’re homemade by yours truly.”

"Oh my god, cherry, _please_." He just needed a nice slice of pie, something nice to take the edge off of today's events. Heather handed him the plate- an obviously expensive porcelain piece, complete with ornate gold designs stretching around the border- and informed him that food expenses were covered by the hotel package they bought. He didn’t even want to think about how expensive the package was, Dean had blocked it out as soon as he signed the name.

Luckily, the other guests were still at the table and Dean went to join them. It was an easy way to get an in with them and get some more information. Everyone’s eyes flicked to him when Dean made his way over, the different pairs scrutinizing his every move. He tried not to think too hard about it. Smiling, Dean pointed to an empty chair between two men. “Is this seat taken?” The group shook their heads and gestured for him to take the seat. Dean grinned, turning on the charm. “I’m new here, we’re on a vacation to de-stress. You know how it is. I’m Dean.”

An older woman- about fifty, with dark brown skin and long curly hair- smiled. Her crows feet crinkled and she patted a tall East Asian man next to her. “We’re regulars here, Takashi and I, it’s a nice retreat from the real world. I’m Nicole.” She pointed to an even taller man with golden rod hair underneath a grey flat cap. He lifted a steaming porcelain mug from his lap in greeting. “That’s Mikhail and his _beau_ , Leo.” Another man- probably Dean’s height- with jet-black hair and dark aviators pushed into his hair waved, showing off a stunning smile. Leo was _very_ attractive, he had the whole superman thing going on. Dark hair, blue eyes, square jaw, solid chest; the epitome of a lady-killer. 

Nicole pointed to another couple, two women- one with dark, olive skin and a long braid, the other with pale skin and striking curly, red hair. "That's Ximena and Ivy." Nicole raised a slender hand to the side of her mouth, mock whispering to Dean. "They're _aristocrats_."

His eyebrows raised. Sam said that none of the couples had been there for all of the deaths, but a couple of regulars could pay off the staff, right? Ximena threw her head back and chuckled, brushing nonexistent crumbs off her pristine white blouse. “Ivy and I just happen to be well off. I work as a cardiothoracic surgeon and she’s a managing director for J.P Morgan.”

Ivy giggled at Dean’s blank stare, a light tone that made her seem younger than she was. Pointing at herself, she clarified, “Investment banker.” She pointed to Ximena, who was looking away- almost as if she was embarrassed. “Heart surgeon.”

“Does everyone here make a small fortune, or is it just you two?” If they were all loaded, Dean was going to have his work cut out for him in terms of fitting in.

Leo’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he sipped his mimosa. It was in a slender flute and was definitely more champagne than juice. “Mikhail and I are professors in New York; he teaches European History and I teach Greco-Roman Art History. We make enough.” He pointed with his drink back at Nicole, the woman blushed, hiding behind a diamond ringed hand. “ _They’re_ the aristocrats, no matter what Nicole likes to say about others.”

She sighed- overexaggerated and flamboyant- and grinned, “You caught me. Takashi and I own a clothing company, real avant-garde stuff. Probably wouldn’t find it in your neck of the woods.” Dean was trying so hard to be civil, “By the way, Dean, what _do_ you do for a living?”

“Mechanic.” He responded curtly- easy and close to the truth. “My old man gave me his garage when he retired.”

Nicole leaned in, Dean could smell the nosiness like it was rotten fish. “What about your lover?” She enunciated the ‘l’, eyes glinting with interest.

Dean gritted out a smile, he did _not_ trust this lady. Dean looked around for a way out. A quick glance to her husband confirmed that he hadn’t even noticed how she had leaned in- he was dead to the world, buried in the local newspaper. Ximena was tapping away on a Blackberry that looked like it had seen better days and a dejected Ivy had joined Mikhail and Leo in a conversation about Italian sculptors. “Cas is a, uh,” He needed to think of something quick, something that explained the odd mannerisms and extensive knowledge, “Theologist.” Nicole’s eyebrows climbed into her hair, she leaned forward even more. “He’s freelance at universities, goes from place to place.”

“That sounds riveting, tell me more about this _Cas_.”

“ _Castiel_ , actually.”

“ _Oh_. Is that a nickname I shouldn’t use?” This chick was weird. And just jumped to the top of his suspect list.

Dean gritted his teeth. “Something like that.” Maybe her nosiness could be beneficial. "Hey,” He got the attention of the rest of the table. “Do you guys know what those carved thingies on the service elevators are?"

The group all shook their heads, matching looks of unknowing. All except one, Leo hummed in thought. "Yeah, you're talking about the carvings, right?" Dean nodded, putting a forkful of pie in his mouth. Leo sat back in his chair, sipping his drink, "It's a creature called the Alp, shapeshifting type, I think. It's said to cause nightmares by sitting on a person's chest. They gradually get more and more vivid before finally," He dragged a finger across his Adam's Apple, Dean found it hard to not grimace around the pie in his mouth. "...the weight becomes too much and the person suffocates to death. German folklore, real paranoid sons of bitches."

He swallowed his bite, pushing away the empty plate. “Huh. Interesting.” So that's the monster, perfect. Sam could say whatever he wanted, but Dean was one of the best hunters out there. He had cracked the code: schmooze enough people and the case falls in your lap, solved. 

“You wanna hear another fun fact about this place’s carvings?” Leo continued.

“Sure why not.” It couldn’t hurt.

“Every last one of these little statuettes on the tables have to do with dreams in mythology.” Leo tapped the intricately carved wolf on the table. There were odd symbols on the beast, Nordic carvings if he remembered the lore right. It was staring straight ahead with an air of grace and power. “I didn’t notice, but then I recognized the alp carvings. And Misha pointed out the common denominator between all of these figurines.” Mikhail raised his mug again, silently corroborating Leo’s words. “If you think about it, it’s kinda odd, right?” Dean quirked his eyebrow and Leo continued. “I mean, okay, you know how those couples died, right?”

Ivy frowned, “I thought those were, like, sex-gone-wrong type of things. Or, like, drugs.”

Nicole clicked her tongue, “That’s what the newspapers said, but I don’t know. They seemed a bit fishy for my tastes.”

“Oh hush dear, you’re going to scare away the new guest.” Takashi patted his wife on the thigh, not even looking up from the paper.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Leo began again, huffing at the interruptions. “All the people who died supposedly had freaky dreams, right? If you see this wolf in your dreams and it dies, that’s a death omen. What if the statues are haunted?” He raised his hands, fluttering the fingers together, making stereotypically spooky noises from children’s movies.

“Ha ha Casper. Very funny.” Dean rolled his eyes as Leo mock bowed.

“Leo may joke around, but what he is saying is true.” Mikhail finally spoke, a thick Russian accent rumbling out the sentence. “The elephant on that table,” He pointed a long finger at another figurine, “Japanese dream eater. The swan? Celtic goddess of dreams. It could be an omen.”

Dean furrowed his brows deep in thought. “I’m gonna head up to my room, make sure dream eaters don’t get my husband.” The group chuckled around him.

Ximena shook her head, “Look Leo! You’re scaring the poor guy off, now who am I going to complain about you too?” Leo just waved away the words and wrapped an arm around Mikhail. They bid Dean their goodbyes as he gathered his things and left for his room. This place was really suspicious, something told Dean there was more than just an obscure German monster here.

Castiel wasn’t even awake when Dean made it back to the room. He was curled up on the bed, shoes still on and trenchcoat crumpled, and Dean felt a pang in his chest. This stupid angel was going to be the death of him. It melted him from the inside out- this idiotic love he felt for him. There was no way they could realistically be together. Dean hunted monsters and Castiel was an angel of the _Lord_ . It would never work. Point blank period. Dean shook himself out of his thoughts before he could truly spiral and made his way over to the bed. Cas was knocked _out_. Drool pooled in the corner of his mouth where it rested on the pillow and his breaths were long and deep. Slowly, Dean took off each of his dress shoes to make him more comfortable. The trenchcoat was a whole other challenge.

Carefully, oh so carefully, Dean pulled Cas in close, removing each arm from the sleeve but stopping when it seemed like he would wake up. It was tough pulling the garment out from behind him but Dean managed. Finally, the coat was secure in Dean’s hands. He grabbed the knitted throw blanket from the foot of the bed and draped it over the sleeping man. He paused only a little bit to admire how calm the angel looked, hair tousled and splayed against the contrasting white sheets.

Dean needed to do some research on the creature before he got any more distracted. Starting with Dad's journal. He set up Sam's laptop, the journal, and a variety of different books of lore on the wide coffee table. He made himself comfortable on the floor, hunched over the literature. Dad didn’t have anything on alps, which made sense, they were only really found in Germany. The professor was right; alps were dream monsters. They were nocturnal and had only one weakness- lemons. But even then lemons didn't kill them, it just immobilized them for a bit. If they got enough lemons, they could probably knock the monster out for a while but that wasn't enough. Where would they find enough? Probably the kitchen, but they still couldn’t kill the thing. Dean bit his lip, he had to be missing something.

Whipping out his phone, Dean dialed Bobby's number. He noticed that the cell reception was marginally better in his room. Was there a jammer downstairs? He made a mental note to ask Sam about the employee only areas. The gruff voice crackled through the speaker. "Yeah?"

"Hey Bobby, what do you know about alps?"

It was quiet for a second- Bobby's hums and papers shifting being the only noises that registered through the receiver. "Alright, Alps- German folklore. They're mischievous sons of bitches; they mess with dreams, cause bad luck, and other really annoying things. Close relative of the vampire, but can only be injured by sticking a lemon in its mouth." Dean could hear the papers being set down when Bobby puffed out a breath. "These things are extinct, Dean. There's only a couple things about them post medieval age. A group of Germans supposedly hunted every last one of them down. That can't be your baddie, kid."

Dean relayed everything he had found so far; the statues, the people, the warding. The line was silent as Bobby processed everything, “Well, have you considered that maybe there’s something else at work? I mean, these things haven’t been seen in centuries. Could something be a copycat of some sort?”

“That’s probably our best bet, thanks Bobby.” Dean hung up, he had his work cut out for him. He was definitely going to do it tomorrow, though. That pie was amazing, he drove for almost two days, and it was _late_ \- Dean deserved some rest. He settled on the couch and shut his eyes, he needed this.

-

Dean was in something wet.

It wasn’t cold, like a pool, or warm, like a Florida swamp. Just comfortable. He didn’t have clothes on, but he wasn’t cold. Dean lifted a hand up, the water slid off of him like oil and shone in the moonlight as it fell. He sat up completely, forcing himself against an impossible weight. He was in a sort of abyss- there was nothing but liquid around him- the sky was a dark green and blue hue and a full moon hung above. The water smelled salty, like a beach they visited on Sammy’s ninth birthday. Splashes could be heard from his left, he turned towards the noise. It felt like slow motion- or something heavy was tied around his neck. It took all his effort to turn, leaving his chest tight.

A figure was taking in their surroundings like they had just been dropped in a foreign place like him. He blinked and there he was. Castiel was in front of him in a similar state undress, his eyes dark in the green light. Dean reached a hand up- he felt lighter, lighter than he had ever been- and ran a hand over Cas’ cheek. It was smooth- freshly shaven- and soft. The angel leaned into the touch, letting out a soft breath that tickled Dean’s fingers. Dean swallowed, noting how Castiel watched the movement before looking back into Dean’s eyes. The angel raised his hands to cradle Dean’s face, his biceps flexing with the effort. 

“Is this real?” It came out like a whisper, Dean bit his lip. What was going on?

“No. I don’t think it is.” Castiel replied. And it was the same gravelly, serious voice- this time with a confused undertone. Castiel ran a hand through Dean’s hair, he sighed at the contact.

This was a dream, it had to be. Dean was free to do whatever he wanted, with no real repercussions. No ruined friendships or awkward silence or suffering. “Cas.” He hummed, running a hand over Dean’s tattoo. “Cas, look at me.” He looked up and Dean got an eyeful of those sapphires again, “I want you.” A weight seemed to dissolve itself off of his shoulders, his chest tightened.

Castiel froze. A myriad of emotions flickered across his face, he squinted in confusion. “Dreams are strange.” What? “If only you would actually tell me this.” The green light dimmed, plunging everything into moss-colored darkness. 

“Wait, what?” It was silent. “Cas!” There was no response, “Cas! Castiel!” The hands disappeared. He curled in on himself, arms wrapped around his knees, and shivered at the sudden drop in temperature. The moon was covered by deep blue clouds and Dean was left alone in the frigid water, surrounded by twilight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter name: Kon Queso - MF DOOM


	3. heavy in my mind, can you get out?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam shrugged, “Godspeed?”
> 
> “Fucking nerd.”
> 
> “Die then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! i actually had to break this chapter into two chapters. expect another one to be out today or tomorrow

When Dean came to, the room was bright- sunlight filtered in through the sheer curtains and cascaded over Dean’s spot on the couch. His mind was reeling. What the hell was that? Dean must’ve been bone tired, he hadn’t had a dream like that in years. Yearning dreams were the worst for Dean. They filled him with a specific pain that nightmares didn’t ever touch on. It made his heart hurt, his stomach curl up, his ears ring. Slowly, he got up, stretching his back and twisting around to get the cracks out. Dean couldn’t see anything on the bed, Cas must’ve left out or something. He pulled his shirt up- a worn henley he stole from Sam- letting the leather cord fall, the cold of the amulet stinging his skin. Dean sighed, sliding his eyes closed and unbuckling his belt. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking the sleep away. The bathroom door had opened with a billow of steam and Castiel was standing next to the bed with wet hair and a towel around his waist.

“Jesus fuck!” Dean practically jumped out of his skin, flushing remembering his state of undress. Awkwardly, he held his jeans closed- the shirt was a no-go, it was already off and on the floor- and turned around, shielding his eyes. “Dude. Put on some clothes.” He willed the image of Castiel without a shirt to go away- water dripping down and sliding just below where the towel hung. Images from his dream came up to the forefront of his mind. He squeezed his eyes closed even harder- the visions of Castiel right next to him, completely undressed, and holding his face in those calloused hands played over and over.

“You can turn around now.” Castiel had a wife beater on- stretched over muscles that Dean tried very hard not to stare at. Along with a pair of dark slacks, pulled out from his overnight bag- unbuttoned. Dean and Sam forced him to buy new clothes- angel or not, he wasn’t going to be running around in year-old clothes. “My apologies, I didn’t realize you had woken up.” He was looking at the bed with a heavy flush settled over his cheeks. His eyes flicked up at Dean every now and then, focusing mainly on the myriad of scars and his tattoo. Awkward silence filled the room, the two men looking everywhere except for each other. “I’m going to check the itinerary that the woman who assisted us yesterday gave us.”

Dean cleared his throat, “You do that. I’m just going to, uh,” He pointed at the still steaming room, “Shower. I’ll be out in max fifteen minutes.” Castiel nodded, wordlessly, as he pulled on another button down and started to button it up. Dean paused right before entering the bathroom, the tension was odd, but Dean powered through. “Why don’t you keep it unbuttoned up top? We’re on ‘vacation’, right?” He didn’t wait to hear the response before he slipped through the door, shutting it against the stifling quiet.

He slid his jeans down, wriggling them off and stepping into the shower. The cool, stone tiles sent a chill down his spine. Water flowed over him, the initial cold was a shock to his system, but it gradually warmed itself. The steam filled the room, clouding the glass walls and filling Dean's lungs. He raised his head, letting the water rain down on his face. What was going on? Why did he feel like their relationship already wrapped itself around a tree? That dream swam around his head. He couldn't think of anything else. The way Cas felt under his skin, the way his eyes turned seafoam green in the light, the warm water around them. He lowered his head, droplets streaming into his eyes and out his hair. He lathered the soap in his towel- an artisanal type, probably shea butter and other expensive things- and dragged the towel across his skin. Dean scrubbed, deep in thought.

_ If only you would actually tell me this. _

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Were his own dreams against him now? Why did he feel so off since stepping foot in this place? Why did it feel like all of his thoughts were bursting out of his chest, gouging a crater in its wake? 

Dean didn’t expect to like Castiel this much- in fact, he fully expected to hate Castiel. He was a stranger- an  _ angel _ \- and stood for everything that completely turned Dean’s life upside down. Angels were real- harp playing, diaper-wearing, winged  _ angels _ \- and they needed Dean to stay alive and safe because if he died… They said if he died the apocalypse would begin and Dad and Yellow-Eyes and the monsters across the country would be the least of their worries. He was fated to be wielded like a sword against the  _ devil _ and if he wasn’t careful- Dean could lose everything.

But Castiel… He was there the whole time when Sam was gone. He was there when Dad went missing. He was there when Sam came back. And he left when Sam stayed- when Jess died, he left. And he was just gone, like they hadn’t formed a friendship in that year they traveled together. Like they hadn’t shared comfortable silence on cross-country road trips seeking out things that killed everyday people. He didn’t expect it to hurt him as much as he did. Dean loved Sam- do  _ not  _ get him wrong, he cherished Sam- but Castiel up and leaving left him empty. They never talked about it. Not when Castiel came back, a new one ripped wide open, because Dean had almost died after that run-in with the rawhead and reaper. Not when they searched for Sam after nutjob hicks abducted him. Not ever.

Dean clenched his jaw. He had been in the shower too long, they were going to be late. 

Castiel was on the couch reading the schedule when Dean came out of the bathroom. He was fully clothed, flipping through a pamphlet, and looked up when Dean pulled on his shirt. He averted his eyes, clearing his throat. “It seems as though we have therapy today.” Cas held up the pamphlet, flipped open to the page in question. “This week is therapy week- all the couples are having sessions. At the end of the week, there’s a banquet for mental recovery. This might aid us-”

“Dude are you saying we need  _ therapy _ ?” Dean scrunched his face, a wave of anger and frustration washing over him. “We’re not a  _ fucking  _ couple.”

Castiel recoiled, clenching his jaw and furrowing his brows. “If you let me finish, I was saying this might aid us in figuring out the culprit here. Our status as a fake couple doesn’t matter when it comes to saving lives.” He stared Dean down, the hard stare he gave him when they first met. All no-nonsense and threatening- practically begging Dean to say something else.

“Whatever, can we get some food before our session?” Cas nodded. He knew he shouldn’t have said that. Dean didn’t know why he felt like one small thing away from going crazy. “By the way, if anyone asks, you’re a theologist who goes from place to place to give talks. Closest thing I could think of.”

He nodded then stood, making his way to the door. “It’s nine. Breakfast is going until ten thirty.” He left without another word. Dean groaned into his palms before following the other man out the door. He had a feeling it was going to be a  _ looong _ day. 

-

Leo, Mikhail, and Nicole were at the same table as yesterday chatting over grits and eggs. Dean led Cas over to the group, ignoring the tension filled silence between them, carrying their breakfast. Leo was the first to look up at their arrival, greeting the two with the same picture perfect grin he flashed yesterday. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s the mystery husband of Dean’s.” He pulled up a hand, mock-whispering to the others. “He’s cute, eh?”

The group chuckled as the duo sat down, Castiel smiled politely as Dean started digging into his food. “I’m Castiel.”

Nicole batted a hand. “We know all about you, Dean gave us the run-down yesterday. It’s great to finally meet you in person.”

Cas floundered a bit, unused to people already knowing of him. Dean cut in, switching topics. He ignored the way Cas tensed at the save. “You guys hear about the therapy sessions?”

Mikhail huffed into his coffee, folding down the newspaper he was reading. “Do not remind me.”

“Ours are tomorrow, they’re... intense.” Leo patted his arm, grimacing. “Misha doesn’t like talking about his feelings.” Leo plastered on an exaggerated frown, ignoring the Russian’s withering glare. 

“Hm. Familiar.” Dean’s head swiveled, taking in what the angel just snarked. Castiel sipped his cup, staring at his food. A hush fell over the group and Dean could see matching expressions of barely concealed surprise. 

Nicole sniffed, breaking the silence. “Leo wasn’t lying, the sessions are intense.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking away and mumbling under her breath. “It might do you two some good.”

Dean ignored the comment. “How are they intense?”

“I mean, it’s  _ therapy _ .” Leo stared at their blank expressions. “Right, you two are newcomers. Let me break it down. Each of you has a session and after y’all’s individual session, you come together and have a group one. Either of you have your schedule?” Castiel handed over the pamphlet. Leo flipped through the pages, finally landing on something. “Yeah, look,” He turned the booklet around to them, showing the different times. “Dean’s first at ten, then Castiel at noon- each for an hour and a half- then you two have a joint session a couple hours after that at three-ish. That’s why it’s so taxing  _ and  _ why it’s one couple a day.”

“There aren’t any other doctors in this place? Make the process go faster?”

“Dr. Rutherford keeps the operation small. Too many high profile clients.” Mikhail explained, Dean raised a brow. “Nicole, Ximena, Leo- to an extent, side business as an artist.” Leo swatted his arm, Mikhail just shrugged. “It’s not like they’ll say anything.”

He turned back to Cas and Dean, “It’s a secret, but I sell art under a pen name of sorts.”

“Interesting.” Dean chewed absently, thinking about the new information. “So Heather does all the sessions herself? She meets with everyone?” If anyone was the most suspicious it was Heather- she was here full-time and knew the most about each victim. He needed to talk to Sam and see if he found anything.

Nicole nodded, “Yeah, she does- knows more about everyone than anyone else in this building.” She glanced at the clock, sipping her mimosa. “Speaking of which, Dean, your session is in ten minutes. I wouldn’t be late if I were you, Heather is a stickler for being on time. The office is on the pamphlet, but she’s on the second floor, door one, closest to the service elevator.” Dean shoveled the last of his food into his mouth and clapped Cas on the shoulder. 

“I’ll see you later.” He got no response.

Dean turned away and made his way to the elevator. He caught the eye of Sam- who was wiping down glass fixtures in the lobby- and gestured to the elevator. Luckily, his brother caught on and slipped away to join him in the elevator. He waited until the doors closed to start talking.

“So I met the locals.”

“And?”

“And, you’re right, this place is pretty accepting. There are a couple hot lesbians, man.” Dean had to throw that innuendo in. This place was giving him the heebie jeebies, something was messing up him and Cas. He needed normalcy.

Sam’s glaring look was unrivaled, he took the bait. “Dude. Real life. Porn. Two very different things. And, you’re supposed to be shacked up with your guardian angel. Don’t break the poor man’s heart a day into your relationship. Your longest relationship can’t stay a week with Carrie Misner in Middle of Nowhere, Montana.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Dude, you know my longest thing was Cassie. Anyway, tell me you’ve done research on them.”

He scratched the back of his head. “It was hard, there’s, like, no wifi here, but I got it done in the security room. But I pinged the ones that were around during the murders or close by enough to do it. Only one could be doing this: Mikhail Dostoevsky-”

“Dostoevsky? Like the Russian novelist?”

“Yeah… how did you-?”

He couldn’t help the self-satisfied smirk that creeped onto his face. “I read.”

“Uh yeah… Whatever. He lives close enough that he could easily come here as a hunting ground of sorts. Supposedly, he goes on hunting trips in Great Barrington every month or so.” Neither Mikhail or Leo raised any red flags. It couldn’t be them.

“Anything on the owners?”

“Whitney Lewis is the one who funds this whole thing- absolutely loaded because of old money and philanthropy stuff- but she’s never in the country. She only comes around in the summer to check up on it. Heather Rutherford is a different story.” Dean nodded, there we go. “She lives here in a cabin deeper into the woods; threw her entire life into rehabilitating other couples after she lost a custody battle with a cheating husband. ‘Unfit for parenting.’ But still has her license… for some reason.”

Great. Dean was about to go to therapy with someone who very well could be a monster in disguise. The elevator dinged and the brothers looked at each other. Sam shrugged, “Godspeed?”

“Fucking nerd.”

Sam scrunched his face, “Die then.”

The elevator doors closed and Dean made his way to the last door of the hall. It would be good to get this over with as soon as possible. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter name: Good Days - SZA

**Author's Note:**

> Story Title: Kill the Dream - Jerry Paper & Easy Feelings Unlimited
> 
> join my discord server for updates! https://discord.gg/AWkaFCsk
> 
> you can reach me at my new tumblr consumptionismyfriend  
> Hope you guys liked it!


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